


The Tale of Athelas

by automnee



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/automnee/pseuds/automnee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The strife between Elves and Dwarves has been ongoing since the mere beginning of Middle-Earth. The more reckless of the latter falls in love with an Elf, which is forbidden in all shapes and forms. Curiously, the Elf returns those feelings and departs from her kin to pursue them. The Battle of the Five Armies initiates, bringing the races together, and the two lovers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Starlight in Another World

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen so many, yet wonderful, fanfiction about Tauriel's and Kili's relationship. I wanted to create the same magical feeling the movie and book has but go into more depth. I know that this particular scene is extremely popular, and I did not venture much far from what is given but I enjoyed writing this quite a lot. 
> 
> This is my very first time posting my work so please send feedback!

A man’s labored scream pounded within the inter walls of Tauriel’s head. A sick, dark dwelling began to grow in her stomach, fumbling over itself as it manifested into a tight knot. She held her breath, ripping apart the kingsfoil she snatched from Bofur only moments ago. The Bargeman’s daughter, Tilda, held the bowl out for Tauriel, apprehension donned on the young girl's face. The She-Elf dipped the weed inside the cool water, her fingers went numb at the icy touch. She moved her lips swiftly, murmuring inaudible healing incantations in Elvish. The Dwarves lifted Kili up from the floor to the table, his violent thrashing knocked off anything that was left on it.

  
“Hold him down,” Tauriel said sternly, the Dwarves obeyed silently, pinning each limp. Fili glanced doubtfully at the elf as he cradled his brother’s head in his arms.  
Kili continued to writhed, banging his elbows and head against the table. Tauriel gripped his thigh where the Orc’s morgul arrow pierced it days before, green pus oozed out of the wound and the skin around it was blackened and shriveled. The skin was dead and the poison was flowing thickly through his veins, pumping straight to his heart.

  
“ _Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin_ ,” she spoke firmly. She took handfuls of the kingsfoil and palm-rolled it. “ _Hon leitho o-ngurth. Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin; hon leitho o-ngurth_.” She laid it against the puncture, a sizzling erupted from it. He howled at the touch and began to thrash more fiercely. He bucked his hips and dug his shoulder blades into the wood of the table. Sigrid rushed to push his torso back down.

  
“Unh! Tilda!” she cried anxiously. Her younger sister helped pushed down on the Dwarf as he jerked aggressively.

  
“ _Menno o nin na hon i eliad annen annin; hon leitho o-ngurth!_ ” Tauriel began once more, her voice growing louder than his. The Elf closed her eyes as she spoke in her native language. The dwelling in her stomach began to shrink and new one initiated in her chest. A warm tickle of gold and light flowed through her, returning the feeling in her fingers. She opened her eyes, they trailed from the wound to the Dwarf’s eyes. He watched her intently, although panting heavily, the screaming has ceased. He grunted, a soft signal of discomfort, and rolled his head over. His eyes drooped to a shut.

  
“He’s asleep,” Fili said after the other Dwarves left for bed. Tauriel nodded, her eyes firmly locked on his younger brother. She gave herself the silent assignment to watch over him for the night. “I’ll help you clean.”

  
He grabbed bowls and plates from the floor that Kili kicked off hours earlier. “It’s alright,” She laid her forearm across his chest, her eyes still fixed on Kili. “I’ll take care of him. Get some rest.”

  
He put the bowls down on the counter beside him, his face reluctant. “Er, alright then. Thank you.” He turned to join the others who lay in the room adjacent to them but stopped to face the Elf again, “thank you, for tonight, you saved his life. I've heard tell of the wonders of Elvish medicine— that, was a privilege to witness…” She smiled softly and gave a slight bow, then quickly returning her attention back to the younger brother whose head was propped up on an old walnut-filled bag.

  
Color seemed to have steeped slowly back into his face within the few moments, he was still pitifully pale, but a new rosiness began in his cheeks. Tauriel hurriedly checked the bandages again, untying the wrap as tenderly as she could managed. His wound had made miraculous improvement since her last checking and the checking before that. The skin was a new, fresh pink and the bone was no longer visible. The traces of infections also vanished, leaving no evidence that there once was one in the beginning. She delicately wrapped him back up, her hands tempted to linger on his newly healed skin.

  
Kili shifted underneath her touch, inhaling lightly. She took her hands away and watched him attentively. More pinkness returned to his face, _his soft, beautiful face_ , she thought. Youth had also made its way back to him too, his skin seemed gentle and dewy and his lips were full and plump again, their color blossomed into a lovely shade of rose. They appeared to be very smooth, he was so absorbed in his dreams, he probably wouldn’t notice if she traced them with her fingertips. She quickly shut that thought out, but it soon replaced with a new desire. A part of Tauriel wanted to gaze at the young Dwarf’s face for the rest of the night, but another reasonable part knew how foolish it would look to the Dwarves when they awaken and see nothing has been cleaned or put away. She sighed and began picking up were Fili left off.

  
“Tauriel,” a soft exhale came from the mouth she so desperately wanted to delight her fingers with seconds ago. She turned around to look at him, wishfully hoping he was awake.

  
“Lie still,” she commanded gently with a smile. She gave her focus to the bowl she was now cleaning, but listened hard to hear his deep, ragged breath.

  
“You cannot be her,” her ears peaked, “she’s far away, she’s…” he whispered dreamily, his eyes slowly opened, fluttering his thick, long eyelashes. “She’s… far, far away from me. She walks in starlight in another world.” Tauriel gently looked back at him, her heart aching in her chest. “It was just a dream.” Her hand was inches away from his, drawing closer each second until they touched. His hand was cool and significantly larger than hers. Both of their breathing quickened as they interlaced their fingers. “Do you think she could have loved me?”

  
Her heart still aching, she stared at him. Unwilling to comprehend what he had just said in time to make a reply, he fell back asleep, soft snores exited his parted mouth. Tauriel stood there quietly, her body unusually still and composed, she examined the small details of his face as she collected her thoughts. His head was rather large considering his short height, in fact, if she had only seen him from torso up, she would have assumed he was much taller than she. His eyebrows were thick, neatly framing his eyes. All of his features were extraordinary gentle, his nose was considerably smaller than the rest of his kin, even his own brother’s. His beard was inexplicably faint, only small gathers of hair grew on his jaw, chin, and above his lips. His lips. She remained on his mouth, her Elven eyes noticing the small cracks of dryness on them. She leaned towards him, touching his lips with her free hand. Dry, but smooth, less than she anticipated but still pleasing. She traced the plumpness of his bottom lip, the warmth of his breath on her fingertips. More curiosity bloomed within her, she leaned in more. Her face now hovering his, she pressed her lips upon his.


	2. Amrâlimê

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Tauriel.” He grabbed her shoulder. “ _Amrâlimê._ ” She stopped and gazed into his eyes.  
> “I don’t know what that means.”  
> “Oh, I think you do.” Kili smiled whole-heartedly. The corner of her lips lifted the slightest and leaned closer to him, her face only inches from his."

The fletching of the arrow tickled Legolas’ fingers as he drew it back to his ear. His target was a very ugly Orc who was a good bit taller than the Elf. The creature arched his back and squealed, the arrow had launched itself into the back of his neck, paralyzing him instantly. The neighboring orc pushed him to the ground, his fat, bowlegged legs protesting as he picked up speed, retreating from the Elf.

A pack of them arrived at dusk, gnashing their teeth eagerly and killing anything that was in front of them. Legolas and Tauriel had followed them discreetly, unable to kill them until they made their attack. In search of the Dwarvish scum, they muttered relentlessly, they lead the Woodland Realm elves to Lake-town, so close to the Lonely Mountain.

These Orcs were much taller and stockier than the ones Legolas fought what seemed like in another lifetime, but no less ugly. Their flat-nosed, sallow-skinned, and wide mouths were identifiable in any environment, although, that could also be because of their distinctive stench.

Legolas pulled a small dagger from his thigh holster, twirled it swiftly in hands before lounging it into the back of the running Orc’s head. He fell to the ground only feet away from his companion. The Elf went to retrieve both the knife and arrow, but caught a new, fouler, sinister scent in the air. He wasn’t familiar with the odor but knew automatically where the wickedness was coming from. The Dwarves had awaken the dragon. Panic initiated deep into his chest, his heart pounding painfully. _Tauriel_ , he thought, forgetting his weapons and sprinted to the Bargeman’s house.

Kili sat in a mildly comfortable chair, his right leg propped up. With a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, his lips tingled fiercely. He glanced up at Tauriel, who paced at the front door instinctively like a solider. Each time he did this, she was always gazing back at him, curiosity in her eyes, and he could have sworn, eagerness. The corners of her lips lifted softly as she freely stared. The young Dwarf returned the smile playfully and rubbed his hands together.

She kissed him an hour ago, for what felt like eternity but yet not long enough. She awoken him with her sweet touch, but he dared not to move, afraid she would leave if she knew he was awake. So he stayed painfully still as she lingered her lips on his momentarily, then kissing his forehead, one of his eyelids, and even the tip of his nose. He grinned at the recollection and looked back up at her. Horror was etched deeply into her face and her hand twitched nervously at her side. “Tauriel?” Kili muttered. The earth shifted as if queued.

“Was that in earthquake?” Fili rushed from the bedroom, the other dwarves behind him.

“No, dragon.” Oin said softly. Tauriel walked outside, her back facing them. She searched the sky, desperately hoping her fears were not true.

“Are you okay, brother?” Fili clasped his hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

“I’m fine.” A loud roar buried his voice, it shook the houses again. The night sky grew darker, shadows falling on the windows and opened doorways. The Dwarves looked at each other panic-stricken. The warning bell rang, distant wails and clamors of the townsfolk commenced, creating a siren of absolute terror.

“We have no time, we must leave.” Tauriel commanded, immediately grabbing blankets and pillows off the table.

“Get him up,” said Bofur, reached for his coat and donned it quickly, wearing it inside-out.

Fili kneeled down and shoved his hands forcefully underneath his brother’s underarms. “Come on,” he said, frustration laced in his voice, “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’m fine,” Kili jerked his arms away from him and hit him hard in the chest. “I can walk.”

“I need you to run. Fast as you can.” Tauriel handed Tilda her doll. She grabbed her shoulder reassuringly and moved her towards Sigrid.

“We’re not leaving,” Bain said, he walked to the both of them, defiance plastered on his face. Then he sighed with desperation. “Not without our father.”

“If you stay here, your sisters will die.” The Elf said while buttoning Tilda’s coat, annoyed. “Is that what your father would want?” Tauriel faced Bain, he trembled but continued to stare at her.

“The boat’s downstairs.” He merely murmured. The Dwarves gathered the rest of their things and headed downstairs to the dock.

“Give me your hand,” Fili held out his hand for Sigrid and then for Tilda. He pulled them gently into the boat.

“We gotta go.” Bofur eyed Kili uneasily. Although the kingsfoil had healed his wound almost completely, his leg still ached dully and his leg was awfully stiff, making his movements slow and drawn out.

“Quickly now. Hurry.” Tauriel held the door open for him, her expression matched Bofur’s.

“Kili, come on!” His brother shouted. He grabbed his upper arm, his grip constricting, and yanked him into the boat. Then he and Bofur grabbed paddles and hastily pushed them into the lake.

Smaug the Dragon flew over them, his wings ripping the tiles off the roofs and knocking down small towers. Oin threw himself over the Bargeman’s children. His short, stout body covered their heads. The daughters clung to him, crying in horror. Kili sat underneath them, still on the boat’s floor where he fell. He gawked at Tauriel, who stood at the front of the boat, her red hair flowing delicately behind her, her face stern. The ground trembled again, the dragon released fire upon the town and everything in its path either demolished instantly or lit aflame.

“Look out!” Bofur shouted as their boat clashed up against the Master of Lake-town’s boat. The daughters shrieked as all their bodies launched forward. Tauriel regained her balance instantaneously and glared at the Master.

“Move it! Move it!” his servants pushed their boat with their ores and continued paddling. “Come on! Faster!” In the collision, his gold he had stashed in his boat began to pour out into the lake. “My gold! My gold!” he cried. They pushed away from them and propelled in a different direction. Every building surrounding them was alit as they headed to the middle of the city, leading them to land and the Mountain. The warning bell tower was the only thing in this part of town that wasn’t on fire. Curiously, a man stood on the hinges, he leaned dangerously away from the landing.

“Da!” Bain shouted, his sisters lifting their heads up from underneath Oin.

“Da!” Tilda cried out loudly. Bard the Bargeman had a bow and arrow in his hand, he pulled his elbow back and hurled it at the beast.

“He hit it!” Kili yelled over the children, he glanced up at Tauriel. “He hit the dragon! He did it!”

“No,” she shook her head, her face held pure shock.

“He hit the mark, I saw it.” Kili assured, lifting himself up to look at her better.

“His arrows cannot pierce its hide,” she said timidly. “I fear nothing will.”

Bain’s face turned pale, like he might vomit. He looked up, his face distorted as he watched a passing hook hanging above them. His thoughts changed quicker than a blink, he latched on to the hook and heaved himself up and out of the boat.

“What are you doing?” Fili shouted angrily. “Come back, Bain!” he hollered after the young boy.

“Bain!” Sigrid cried.

“Bain! Get back here!” bellowed Bofur. “Bain!”

“Leave him.” Tauriel said, authority following her voice. “We cannot go back.”

“Bain,” Tilda whimpered and grasped her doll a bit tighter.

The dragon roared again, lighting more in flame. He flew over them towards the tower, his body was very large and menacing. He continued to grumble, as if he were making some sort of attempt at communicating with Bard. He froze in his tracks, and glowered down at the tower. He thumped the ground with his bulky, back legs and flew straight at it, knocking more than half of it down. The daughters screamed, squeezing their tightly eyes shut. The dragon halted again and turned back around to face it once more. He soared at it for a second round, but abruptly stopped. His bright, orange scales on his chest and throat transformed to dark grey, like someone had poured water over embers. The rest of his red scales followed as he dropped to the ground was a massive crash. Bard had killed Smaug the Terrible.

Tauriel stayed with the daughters even when they reached shore. They hollered, in frantic search for their father and brother. She offered her help silently, studying the crowd, yet staying near to the Dwarves, who were pushing their boat back into the water.

“Tauriel,” Kili started.

“Kili!” his brother shouted behind him, the dwarves struggled to push the boat back in. “Come on! We’re leaving!” His face dropped, he could not look at the Elf directly.

“They are your people. You must go.” She said, although her voice was not too certain. She started off, pretending to search for the father and son, yet not daring to look back. Kili’s heart pounded dully, like the moment had slowed down. He felt defeating ache in his chest, a pain more powerful than he felt hours before. He stared at the back of the Elf’s head as she left him. Her hair brilliantly, long and red followed behind.

“Come with me.” She whipped her head around to look at him, her mouth parted open. “I know how I feel. I’m not afraid. You make me feel alive.” He smiled, his heart pounding fiercely, an engine kicked on and the gears started moving more lively than ever.

“I can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Tauriel.” He grabbed her shoulder. “ _Amrâlimê._ ” She stopped and gazed into his eyes, for a brief moment, he hoped she would kiss him once more.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Kili smiled whole-heartedly. The corner of her lips lifted the slightest and leaned closer to him, her face only inches from his before she froze. “ _My Lord Legolas_ ,” she spoke in Elvish, straightening her back.

Legolas stood feet behind them, staring hatefully at the Dwarf. Kili did not cower, he glared back, hot anger boiling within. “ _Take your leave with the Dwarf._ ” She did not move. “ _You are needed elsewhere._ ”

Kili shifted his focus on Tauriel, her face was expressionless but it seemed like water had gathered at the rim of her bottom lash line, but she hastily blinked and the trace had disappeared. She took a few steps back and he did the same, his chest tightening.

“One more!” Bofur groaned in the back, the Dwarves now fully in the water. Kili joined them, his anger fading into despair. He halted, and turned around. She hadn’t moved.

Their hands met, cold against cold, he slid the runestone into her hands. Holding the bottom and the top of her hand, he pulled her close to his chest. “Keep it. As a promise.” His eyes now at her lips. She smiled, a genuine, beautiful smile. He dropped her hands and headed back to the Dwarves’ boat and joined them. She outstretched her hand, the stone was still warm from his pocket. She took one last look at the Dwarf and met eyes with him before he turned his face to the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I kept to the original script as closely as possible but I didn't want to ruin the genuine chemistry between these two characters. Although, I rather did have fun writing with Legolas, and I plan to do that some more!


	3. Will You Come With Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“ _My Lord Legolas,_ ” Feren, an elf from his father’s kingdom approached the two. “ _I bring word from your Father. You are to return to him immediately._ ” The Elven prince obeyed, he went to follow the Messenger and his horse.  
> “ _Come, Tauriel._ ” Legolas ordered.  
> “ _My Lord… Tauriel is banished._ ”  
> “ _Banished?_ ” Legolas shook his head and then spoke in the common language, harshness laced in his voice. “ _You may tell my father if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me._ ”"

The morning was ill, the air foul with ruin and death. Winter was upon the townsfolk of Lake-Town, they gathered around dim fires for warmth. Those who could stand were ordered to tend to the sick and the wounded, and those who had strength left prepared themselves for long hike to the Lonely Mountain. The available townspeople collected their possessions they managed to snatch before the fire could claim it, but now were forced to abandon them due to their weight. They folded their blankets and shoved them into worn baskets, and others gathered their scarce bit of food, carrying what they could in sacks. Goats and pigs were put on rope leashes to be taken with them, soon to be slaughtered and eaten. The strongest group of men carried axes in their hands, severing small trees from their roots. The branches were wrapped into a rather large bundle, strapped together but old rope ripped from clothing and boats.

“Take only what you need. We have a long march ahead.” Bard spoke firmly, an axe in one hand and broken pieces of a log in the other.

“Where will you go?” Legolas stood quietly, observing a pair of men helping each other tie a sack-full on one’s back.

“There is only one place.” said Bard.

Alfrid had been lingering behind the Dragon-Slayer, an ugly smirk on his face. “The mountain.” He smiled, revealing yellow, rotten teeth. “You are a genius, sire. We can take refuge inside the Mountain. It might smell a bit of dragon, but the women can clean that up. It’ll be safe and warm and dry… and full of stores… bedding, clothing… the odd bit of gold.” He sneered to himself. Bard turned to look at the servant, his face full of disgust.

“What gold is in that Mountain is cursed. We will take only what was promised to us.” Alfrid nodded, although he appeared to be quite upset. “Only what we need to rebuild our lives.” He dumped his pile of newly tied sticks into Alfrid’s hands, and sauntered off angrily.

“News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands.” Legolas interrupted.

“Aye.” Bard stopped. The Elf approached him soundlessly.

“Others will now look up to the Mountain… for its wealth… for its position.” Bard watched him prudently as he spoke.

“What is it you know?” he murmured. Legolas observed the Bowman’s momentarily.

“Nothing for certain.” He looked back up at the mountain. “It’s what I fear may come.” The Elf left Bard, scrutinizing the crowd for Tauriel.

“You saw something out there.” She spoke swiftly as they joined together in pace.

“The Orc I pursued out of Lake-Town, I know who he is. Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. A Warg pack was waiting for him on the outskirts of Esgaroth. They fled into the North. These Orcs were different than the others. They bore a mark I have not seen for a long time. The mark of Gundabad.” She halted, her eyes widened.

“Gundabad?” she whispered.

“An Orc stronghold… in the far North of the Misty Mountains.”

“ _My Lord Legolas_ ,” Feren, an elf from his father’s kingdom approached the two. “ _I bring word from your Father. You are to return to him immediately._ ” The Elven prince obeyed, he went to follow the Messenger and his horse.

“ _Come, Tauriel_.” Legolas ordered.

“ _My Lord… Tauriel is banished._ ”

“ _Banished?_ ” Legolas shook his head and then spoke in the common language, harshness laced in his voice. “You may tell my father if there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me.”

“Legolas.” Tauriel murmured. “It is your king’s command.”

“ _Yes, he is my King…_ ” he looked back at her tenderly, but quickly shifted his focus to the ground, “ _but he does not command my heart._ I ride North. Will you come with me?”

“To where?”

“To Gundabad.” He sauntered off quickly, the She-elf behind him. They shortly came to Legolas’ horse and mounted him. Tauriel wrapped her arms around the Prince’s chest as they sprinted through the townsmen.

The Elves reached their destination in little time, the journey quiet and uncomfortable. They traveled without stopping, cutting swiftly through the lands. They were forced to abandon their horse at the foot of the mountains. These parts were dangerous, nasty business happened to any living being left alone. They encouraged him to take a path that would lead him safely through the Misty Mountains but they could not linger. They hiked up Mount Gundabad, the mountain steep and lifeless. Careful not to breathe too loudly, the stayed close to each other. Legolas often put his hand gently on the other elf’s back although neither of them needed assistance to climb. They reached the peak and crouched near one another. They intently watched the mechanical tower in front of them.

“Gundabad. What lies beyond?” Tauriel whispered.

“An old enemy. The ancient kingdom of Angmar. This fortress was once its stronghold. It is where they kept their great armories. Forged their weapons of war.”

“I saw light. I saw movement.” She pointed out warily. The light dimmed when his eyes fell to the place she motioned.

“We wait for the cover of night. It is a fell place, Tauriel.” He took a sharp breath, “In another age, our people waged war on those lands.” He gazed into her eyes, his pupils dilating. “My mother died there. My father does not speak of it. There is no grave. No memory. Nothing.” Words failed Tauriel, so she just stared with sympathetic eyes. “My father has no heart.”

Legolas leaned towards her, his lips meeting hers. From his crouch, he fell to his knees, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and another around her waist. He pulled her closer to him, her chest pressed hard against his. She had no choice but to return to her knees as well. He kissed her roughly, his teeth bumping against her still lips and his nose mashed against her cheek. The fierce kiss only lived for a few seconds before he abruptly froze. He released his firm grip on her but still remained a few inches in front of her. “Forgive me,” he murmured. Tauriel wiped her lips with the back of her hand.

“It’s okay,” she glared to the side, giving all her attention to the tower. “ _If we are going in - we should move now._ ” A horrible screeching interjected her, a hundred or so bat-liked creatures erupted from below them. Legolas reached over and grabbed her waist, pulling her into him. She dared not to move away from him, the beasts a short distance away from their heads. They flapped their ugly, black wings, erupting a throaty shriek from the mouths. She lifted herself away from him and watched the bats cloud to the tower. “ _They are swarming_.”

“These bats are bred for one purpose.” Legolas spoke quietly.

“For what?” she whispered hoarsely.

"For war.”

Short moments later, the Orc horn hummed. Their marching rattled the ground as they chanted. The gate of the tower swung open and hundreds of Orcs funneled out. The bats circled above them as hundreds multiplied to thousands. The shrieking of the bats loudened, filling the ears of the Elves.

“ _We must warn the others._ ”

Legolas clutched Tauriel’s hand and jumped up. “ _We may be too late – hurry!_ ” She pulled her hand away as they jogged down the mountain. The shouting of the Orc grew louder as they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Kili wasn't mentioned at all in this chapter but I really wanted to bring Legolas' feelings into the picture because it'll play a role in the future. Also, following Tauriel and Legolas gives us an insight on what's brewing in Gundabad, leading to the Battle of the Five Armies.


	4. As a Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Durin’s beard, this is a dream.” He stood up and walked to her slowly, almost unsure of himself. He grabbed her hair and kissed her, closing the space between them. Her chest burned, every inch of her skin tingled. She discarded the height difference, leaning deeply into him. She clutched his jaws, then pushed her hands back into his matted hair. His hands drifted from her hair onto her shoulders then to her spine, delicately trailing each hunch of bone. He lingered at her waist, holding her so close to him, but rushed his hands back up to her ribs. Then to her heart. Which pounded rapidly.

“Fall back! Fall back to the Mountain!” Dàin II Ironfoot hollered at his army. He swung his axe into another Orc’s forehead, cutting directly in the middle, splitting his eyes. “Fall back!” A horn blew, louder and more sinister than the ones previously blown, the final assault was being given. Ori and the rest of the company remained in the halls of Erebor, donned in their war armor. Ori stared absently at a helmet laying on the ground, his shoulder sunken as his listened to the painful cries of his kin. Nori reached out and patted his brother’s shoulder, for he too felt the same way. The Dwarves knew that this were their fight to fight, but yet they cowered here under their king’s orders. In fact, the king approached the company now, a sword in his right hand. Kili rose, he grinded his teeth in anger.

“I will not hide behind a wall of stone while others fight our battles for us!” Kili bellowed, he pounded his fist against his chest as he too walked towards him. The Dwarvish king quickened his pace, his face remained neutral. “It is not in my blood, Thorin.”

“No,” he said, Kili’s bottom lip quivered. “It is not. We are sons of Durin. And Durin’s Folk do not flee from a fight.” Thorin smiled at his nephew who smiled back kindheartedly. The king gingerly placed his hand on the back of Kili’s head as their foreheads touched briefly. Thorin patted his shoulder hard and faced the other Dwarves.

“I have no right to ask this of any of you,” Thorin began, he met eyes with Fili and Oin, “But will you follow me one last time?” Those who were sitting stood to their feet and all of them raised their weapons to their chest. The king smiled, lifting his own sword. Trolls roared unanimously, their clamors echoing through the Misty Mountains. The same sinister horn blew once more, and the Orc army, with their trolls, marched forward, pursuing the Mountain. Bombur blew the Dwarvish horn in return, its song much loftier than the Orcs’. These trolls were bred to be cunning, but stood still and stupidly looked around, unaware where the noise was coming from. Bombur took in a deep breath and blew again. A loud clash ended his tune, and the stone wall Thorin ordered the company to build was destroyed in a matter of seconds. A very large, golden bell rammed through it, the broken stone pieces fell into the moat, creating a pathway. The dwarves mustered their courage and sprinted out of their halls, yelling vociferously. Dàin’s army parted as they ran, the young king chanted for his cousin, “To the king! To the king!” The company rallied Dàin’s forces back to battle and together they slayed the Orc-filth.

“Dàin!” The king shouted at the other.

“Thorin! Hold on! I’m coming!” The Dwarf launched himself on the back of an Orc at least a foot and a half taller than he. He wrapped his arms around his neck and slit his throat. Before the Orc could fall to the ground, Dàin took his mallet and smashed the face of another nearby. “Hey, cousin! What took you so long?” The kings laughed and then embraced, slamming their fists roughly against each other’s backs. “There’s too many of these buggers, Thorin. I’ve hope you got a plan.”

“Aye. We’re going to take out their leader.”

“Azog?” Thorin mounted a fat mountain goat, armed for war.

“I’m gonna kill that piece of filth.” He motioned Kili, Fili, and Dwalin to follow him.

“Lead on!” Dwalin hollered as he and the others as mounted the war-goats. They slashed their swords as they rode through the Orc, beheading each one their sword met.

The Elves ran down Mount Gundabad with urgency, both fearful for the upcoming battle. Their horse miraculously took the path of safeness as they encouraged, and unscathed, they rode hard to the city of Dale. Cutting through the woods, they will be able to make it there moments before the Orc army, but only by moments. They entered the ruin city, galloping across the dead and fatally injured. Tauriel sat far away from Legolas, sending an arrow through the head of any Orc in her reach.

“Gandalf!” Legolas hollered at sight of the Wizard.

“Legolas.” Gandalf the Grey whispered and hurried to greet him, “Legolas Greenleaf.”

“There is a second army.” The Woodland prince dismounted his horse gracefully. “Bolg leads a force of Gundabad Orcs. They are almost upon us.”

“Gundabad.” Gandalf murmured to himself. “Ah,” the old man exhaled, “this was their plan all along. Azog engages our forces, then Bolg sweeps in from the North.”

“The North?” Bilbo Baggins, the curious hobbit piped in disbelief, “Where is the North exactly?”

“Ravenhill.” Gandalf gripped his staff and sauntered towards the cliff that gave a magnificent view of the battle below where four armies fought.

“Ravenhill? Thorin is up there. And Fili and Kili. They’re all up there.” Tauriel watched the hobbit wide-eyed as he rambled quickly. Her breathing quickened. She caught Legolas’ eye momentarily before running off.

“Tauriel!” he called behind her, but she deliberately ignored him, hastening her pace. Kili slashed an Orc’s neck, its warm blood spewing all over his armor and the ground. He panted heavily, that was the last Orc on Ravenhill, for now that is.

“Where is he?” he demanded. “It looks empty. I think Azog has fled.”

“I don’t think so.” Thorin grumbled. “Fili, take your brother. Scout out the towers. Keep low and out of sight. If you see something, report back. Do not engage. Do you understand?"

“We have company.” Dwalin interrupted. “Goblin mercenaries. No more than a hundred.”

“We’ll take care of them. Go! Go!” Dwalin and Thorin held back the goblins, killing them with ease.

Fili and Kili stalked off quietly, walking lightly on their feet, swords in their hands. They hid underneath large chunks of ice until the last fat goblin wobbled into the direction of the other Dwarves. The brothers looked at each other briefly and hurried across the frozen river towards the towers.

“ _You will go no further_. You will not turn away. Not this time.” Tauriel’s voice shook uneasily but she held her bow firmly in front of her.

“Get out of my way.” Thranduil snarled.

“The Dwarves will be slaughtered.”

“Yes, they will die. Today… tomorrow… one year hence, a hundred years from now. What does it matter? They’re mortal.” She swiped an arrow so swiftly from her quiver, it was unnoticeable by the common eye. She aimed her arrow at the Elven king’s face.

“You think your life is worth more when there is no love in it? There is no love in you.” Thranduil bared his teeth, throwing his arm in front of him, slicing her bowstring with his sword. The She-elf did not anticipate his anger, she let the bow slip out of her hands and unto the ground.

“What do you know of love?” Thranduil threatened, his sword now at her throat. “Nothing. What you feel for that Dwarf is not real.” Tears streamed down Tauriel’s face. “You think it is love? Are you ready to die for it?”

Another sword flew in front of her face, hitting the king’s. Thranduil dropped his jaw as he stared at the interrupter. “ _If you harm her, you will have to kill me._ ” Legolas stepped closer to his father’s face, forcing his sword to stay stagnant. The king could not make eyes with his son.

Legolas leaned closed to Tauriel’s ear, “I’ll go with you.” She turned and sprinted to Ravenhill where Thorin and his best warriors fought.

Fili and Kili crept in one of the towers, bumping shoulders as they entered a tight corridor. An Orc roared nearby, Kili grinded his teeth and launched himself in the direction of the sound. His brother forced his hand on Kili’s chest, pushing him back.

“Hey. Stay here. Search the low levels. I’ve got this.” Fili assured, searching for movement in the shadows. Kili submitted to his older brother, although hesitantly. He ran into the other corridor, looking for any sign of Orc. The towers were empty, the younger Dwarf began to feel uneasy about his uncle’s plans. He took a staircase leading him to arches with landings, he peered out one of the open doorways, seeing Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo several feet below him. A deep drumming started, an ominous tremble vibrating the halls. Kili hurriedly climbed the set of stairs leading him back to his elder brother. His legs seemed unable to take him fast enough. He refrained himself from calling his brother’s name, admittedly aware that this may be a trap. He fled through the halls, his large feet slamming the floor loudly. He was quick to find his brother, spread-eagle, his sword gripped tightly in his hands. His sword was drenched in blood, Kili’s stomach tightened.

“Fili!” he fell to his knees, touching his brother’s cheek which was slashed open. The Dwarf’s lifted his eyes sleepily.

“Kili,” he breathed, he shifted, trying to sit himself up.

“Don’t,” Kili pressed his brother back down, eyeing him carefully.

“Ah,” Fili sucked in sharply. “Think I broke some of my ribs.”

“We’ll fix you. Dwalin or Thorin will be here. Can you walk?”

“Think so, but you better take care of those Orcs first.” Fili nudged his head at a dead Orc feet away from him. “They’re hidden.”

“Stay here. And don’t move.” Kili rubbed his brother’s shoulder before unwillingly leaving him. He ran up another flight of stairs, a throwing axe in one hand and a sword in the other.

War bats flew over Legolas and Tauriel as they fled to Ravenhill. They screeched profusely, circling above them. “No,” Tauriel whispered, the bats flew down to the battle, attacking anything its talons could reach. She searched the scene hoping to spot Kili on the field, unaware of a slower bat flying at the back of her head. Legolas leaped and killed it with his sword. Tauriel still oblivious, she found the Dwarf fighting Orcs on a landing above her. “Kili,” she whispered, her heart beating rapidly at the sight of him. She abandoned Legolas, skipping stairs as she ran to the Dwarf.

The stairs led her to a dark corridor, a foul stench of Orc lingered in the air. She froze and listened hard to the footsteps of the heavy beings that stalk her. Two Orc hurled themselves at the She-elf, she took her dual daggers and killed the first, larger, fat one with ease, stabbing him in the neck. The second one she battled, although leaner and shorter, was much stronger. She pushed him against the wall with all her strength, lodging her knife in his ribs, underneath his armor. She left the carcasses, searching for the landing she saw the Dwarf.

“Kili!” Tauriel hollered. “Kili!”

“Tauriel!” the shout was distant and strained but it was his.

“Kili,” she murmured. A roar erupted from her left and she was pinned to a broken slab of stone, a piercing pain stabbed her chest. She squirmed from underneath the Orc, falling to the ground. She took her knives and repeatedly slashed at his thick thighs. It was Bolg of the North, son of Azog, much stronger than she, knocked her knives out of her grasp. He pulled his elbow back and punched her between the eyes, she flew back before he caught her by the throat. He lifted her up to his white eyes, the Elf wheezing for air. He licked his lips, revealing his sharp teeth. His gave a menacing grin, she struggled underneath his grasp but he held her securely, blocking her way of air. She lifted her leg back and kicked as hard as she could into the Orc’s groin. Bolg dropped her with a loud grunt but hit her again, which she managed to dodged and returned the blow. He was too swift, he grabbed her by both wrists and slung her against the stone. He took his axe and lifted it high above his head, Tauriel watching him, blood trickled down her face.

“Argh!” Kili leaped on his back from above, he too bleeding profusely at the face. Bolg leaned over, slinging the dwarf to the stairs, but Kili jumped back up and charged at him. He ducked at each swing the Orc took at him, his footwork precise and perfected. Bolg resulted to striking his face with his large fist, as Kili fell back, the Orc lifted his sword.

“No!” Tauriel screamed and she pulled the Orc away. He shoved her, but she clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders. He stumbled backwards, misjudging how far and took the both of them off the cliff. She hit the mountain bluntly, knocking her unconscious. Legolas watched from above from a watchtower, his chest tightening. Bolg picked himself back up easily, for landing on the Elf before they rolled away from each other. The prince reached back into his quiver to retrieve an arrow to slaughter the filth, but his quiver was emptied, he used them all protecting the King under the Mountain. He swore underneath his breath, the Orc drawing closer to Tauriel. Legolas yanked his sword from his sheath, he took it above his head and leaped off the tower, straight into the troll’s forehead below him. The troll cried out and swung his head side to side, Legolas pushed his weight forward, directing the troll to ram into the tower in front of them. The tower filled the space between the Elven prince and the Orc. Tauriel remained unconscious as Legolas fought. The Eagles arrived bringing Beorn with them and they relentlessly fought Orcs and goblins together, also gaining the upper hand in the battle. Legolas sprinted to where Tauriel lay, blood of the dead Bolg on his cloak.

“Tauriel,” his fingertips brushed her cheek, her eyes opened suddenly. She grabbed his hand and pushed it away.

“Kili,” she mumbled, pulling herself up to her feet. She glanced at Legolas briefly before she left him, knees in the snow and bloodied. She retraced her fall, gripping on larger bits of rock as she climbed the cliff side. Kili stayed where she saw him last before her tumble with the Orc, but the Dwarf no longer seemed brave and daring, he seemed weak. His face was tear-stained and his eyes were bloodshot. He sat with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms around them, a pitiful stature. He squinted as Tauriel pulled herself to the landing.

“Durin’s beard, this is a dream.” He stood up and walked to her slowly, almost unsure of himself. He grabbed her hair and kissed her, closing the space between them. Her chest burned, every inch of her skin tingled, like a fire flickered alive after being in hibernation for so long. She discarded the height difference, leaning deeply into him. She clutched his jaws, then pushed her hands back into his matted hair. His hands drifted from her hair onto her shoulders then to her spine, delicately trailing each hunch of bone. He lingered at her waist, holding her so close to him, but rushed his hands back up to her ribs. Then to her heart. Which pounded rapidly.

“I thought I lost you.” He parted his lips from hers and gazed into her hazel eyes. She smiled softly and huffed a laugh. “Tauriel—”

“I love you too.” She interrupted, she leaned to kiss his forehead. The Dwarf’s cheeks turned furiously pink.

“I love you, Tauriel.” He flushed. Tauriel reached into her cloak’s pocket and pulled out a dim blue rock, the rune stone. He laughed heartily. “A promise is a promise, now I’ll never part from your side, my lady. Or your hips.” He smirked and they giggled together and returned to another heated kiss.

“I cannot go back.” Legolas approached his father who had also been watching the scene. He exhaled, he sauntered off, leaving his father.

“Where will you go?” Thranduil asked, his son halted.

“I do not know.”

“Go north. Find the Dúnedain. There’s a younger Ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father, Arathorn, was a good man. His son… might grow to be a great one.”

“What is his name?”

“He’s known in the Wild as Strider. His true name you must discover for yourself.” Legolas glared at his father, his grief crumbling on top of him. He turned away from his father and headed down the stairs. “Legolas.” His father called after him. “Your mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.” He looked up at his father, who hand was upon his chest, a slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The prince mimicked the motion, and raise his hand out as a loving farewell. Legolas left without glancing back at Tauriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've calculated approximately the height difference between the two because it's been bugging me. Kili is a taller dwarf, so he'd be around 4'8 to 4'10. Elves are tall and lean, so Tauriel would be 5'8 to 5'11. So about a foot difference, so he comes at the tip of her shoulders. Definitely a big gap but not as drastic as I have read in others.


End file.
